


To Anybody Who Actually Cares

by dark_mikohanyou



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Suicide, countries being mean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-03
Updated: 2016-01-03
Packaged: 2018-05-11 08:42:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5620585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dark_mikohanyou/pseuds/dark_mikohanyou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>America over hears the other nations talking about him and has finally had enough. He makes a decision that rocks the countries' world and changes the way everyone sees him for the rest of their lives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. America's Decision

"You fatass"

 

"Moron"

 

"God, why can't you take things seriously for once?"

 

"You're such a screw up!"

 

"Now I see why the world hates you"

 

"Why don't you try showing up on time for a change!?"

 

All of these statements and more floated through America's head as he sat in his living room after the world conference. Every time he had a conversation with one of his fellow nations they always ended up insulting him. Even his own brother told him that he was the ass of the world!

What did I do to make every one hate me!

America knew that he had made mistakes and had screwed things up, but so had every other nation in the world! They weren't perfect and he sure as hell knew it. He sighed as he ate his dinner consisting of homemade chicken and cooked vegetables.

He hated that everyone thought that he was just some fatass who lived his life on McDonalds or other fast food joints. Sure they were great places to stop if he was in a rush, like when he was on his way to world meetings, but he ate other healthy things too! He loved almost any type of vegetable, and would actually rather eat a salad than a big greasy hamburger!

He also tried to arrive to the world meeting on time! He really had but on the way he had run across the scene of a hit and run and had stopped to help the young woman who had been hit. Turns out she was hit by a foreigner driving on the wrong side of the road. The man hadn't cared enough about a 'stupid American' to even check to see if she might be okay. The young woman had ended up in the hospital with ten broken bones and a bad concussion. The doctors told her she was lucky to be alive.

When America had arrived at the meeting he was met with accusations as to why he was late. Every single one had consisted of him losing track of time trying to get fast food. But instead of correcting them he just plastered on his 'Hero Smile' and told them how amazing McDonalds was. After all he couldn't disappoint them by ruining their image of him being a brainless idiot.

That was his problem though; he never wanted to let anyone down. That's why he always tried to be the hero of the world, to save people from each other. He saved people and helped them, but in the end they just criticized him, and accused him of being where he didn't belong. But every time they needed something from him they were quick to accuse him of not being a hero, of not protecting innocent people, and try to force his hand into action.

Sighing America stood up and cleared the table before heading off to bed. The next morning he awoke at 4:30, an hour and a half before he had to be at the world meeting. After pulling himself from the warm bed and taking a quick shower, he dressed in his usual uniform and slid into him bomber jacket.

Once he was sure that he had everything he need for the meeting he headed towards the meeting hall a bit early. After a peaceful drive, or as peaceful a drive through the streets of D.C. could be, he entered the building a full ten minutes before the meeting was set to start. He heard the low murmur of voice from the meeting room signifying that some people had already arrived, but before he could open the door he heard something that broke his heart.

"Mes Amis shouldn't we stop now before Petite Amerique comes and hears us?"

"You Bloody Git! You know that he never even comes on time so why would you think he would be early, of all things!"

"I agree with England! But Amerika is anything but small, he is quite fat, Da?”

"I agree, Aru! If he spent half the time his spends worried about food on his country maybe he wouldn't owe me so much money!”

"Yes and maybe his country wouldn't be comprised of the fattest people in the world!

"He needs to learn to look past his own swollen ego and see how he affects the rest of the world!"

"No he just needs to stay out of everyone else's affairs!"

"I think that part of this is England's fault, Da?

"Why You!"

"Non, non think about it Mon Ami, you did raise the little brat didn't you?"

"I agree with France."

"Yes they are right; something had to have caused this!"

"Well if this is somehow any fault of mine, then let it be known that I would go back and fix that mistake in a heartbeat if I could!"

"Well you are the one with the 'magic' why don't you go do it?

"IT'S REAL!"

"Sure whatever you say"

America couldn't stand to listen to anymore, and slammed the door open. The countries were momentarily shocked by the loud noise, but quickly recovered their bearings.

"You Git you're late!" England said glaring at the American standing in the doorway.

America just turned to England with a dead look in his eyes. "Actually I am five minutes early, England."

The whole room stared at America in shock, while he quickly scanned the room making and holding eye contact with no one.

"Is it true?" he asked in a quiet monotone voice continuing to glance around the room.

"Is what true, you bloody moron! Speak clearly and concisely if you are going to be speaking!" England scolded him.

"Is that really what you all think of me? That I am useless, a mistake? That the world would be better off if I was never here?" America paused taking in the expressions of shock on the other countries faces.

After the shock wore off he was devastated to see many countries nodding their heads in agreement with his statement. He waited to see if anyone would negate his statement but they just continued to stare at him.

Finally Russia glared at him, "you have your answer now, so what are you going to do?"  
America didn't even bother to answer before turning around and walking out, and not a single person called for him to come back. Not that he would have answered if they did but I would have been nice to know someone cared. It would have been nice to know someone cared if he lived or died, but he knew that no one did.

As he drove home he considered what his life had become. The once vibrant, happy, carefree man was wallowing in depression. With all the economic crisis's going on the country of freedom was slowly becoming sicker. The only things that had kept him going were the need to be a hero for those countries that couldn't protect themselves and his people. But now knowing what all of the other countries thought, and knowing they didn't need, nor want, his help, he was only left with his people.

His people who everyday were complaining about the country they lived in. People who were burning and destroying his flag that he worked so hard to earn. People who were saying how they couldn't wait to move, to leave America. People who were saying that they thought that the current day America was a huge mistake. People who no longer needed him.

With these thoughts in mind America slowly walked into his penthouse and towards his bedroom. He numbly sat down at his desk and pulled out a piece of paper, and a pen. After pouring everything he had been feeling for the last few decades out onto the paper he folded it and wrote across the front, to anyone who actually cares, and left it sitting proudly on the spotless desk.

He then proceeded to walk to his closet and pull out a small black and silver pistol that England had given him for his last birthday. Once he was sure that he had ammunition he slowly walked back into his bedroom, and lay down on his bed. He smiled at the small gun and with a steady hand placed the barrel to his temple. He chuckled bitterly and looked at the ceiling.

I guess in the end I will just be another lazy, fat, stupid American lying down for a nap and never waking up.

BANG


	2. Canada's Decision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Canada comes to check on his brother in the morning only to find his dead body.

The morning had started off normally for Canada, but the young blonde couldn't shake that feeling that something was wrong.

He had been trying to call his brother all night after he ran out of the meeting the day before. He had wandered the streets of New York for hours looking for the other blonde but finally had to give up and go to his hotel room.

He made sure to set his alarm earlier than normal so that he could head out to look for the American. After getting dressed and eating a quick breakfast he rushed out of the hotel and into the busy streets, heading towards his brothers house. After traveling for about two hours, due to the fact he got lost, he finally made it to the door of the American's house.

He knocked hesitantly on the door then again louder when no one answered. Sighing he pulled the spare key out of his backpack and quickly unlocked the door.

He glanced around the American's house and called out his name. When after a few minutes he heard no reply he made his way up the stairs and to America bedroom door. He knocked twice before pushing his way into the room, seeing his brother curled up on the bed. He smiled gently and walked over to the younger blonde nudging his shoulder to wake him up.

Alfred didn't move or even stir but the Canadian heard an object hit the ground on the other side of the bed. Confused he walked around and picked the object up.

His eyes widened slightly when he recognized the pistol that England had bought America last year. He turned around to ask his brother why he was sleeping with a gun, but never even opened his mouth.

Tears started to gather in his eyes but his brain refused to comprehend the bullet hole in the side of his brother’s head. It wasn't possible, the bright happy American would never do this, he loved life too much.

"A-Alfie come on! Wake up, the joke is over!"

The blonde remained still on the bed, his chest no longer rising and falling with his breathing.

Canada started sobbing falling to the floor beside his brother's bed, clinging to the American's cold hand as if it was the only thing keeping him sane. He roughly wiped away the tears and glanced around the room for some form of forced entry but he quickly forced himself to face the fact that his younger brother had done this to himself. His eyes widened slightly as they landed on the letter resting on the barren desk in the corner of the American’s room. Stumbling slightly he walked over to the desk and picked up the folded piece of paper and walked back over to his brothers side.

Sitting down with his back resting against the bed he unfolded the letter and started reading. Silent tears dripped from his eyes and dropped down onto the paper as the words sunk into his brain. He gently placed the letter on the floor next to him and grabbed America’s cold hand before burying his face into his lap and allowing the gut wrenching sobs to break free.

After a while he pulled his phone out of his jacket pocket and unlocked the screen shakily. His eyes wandered up to his brother’s face and a chocked sob escaped his lips yet again. He squeezed his eyes shut and glanced back down at his phone quickly pulling up his contacts and calling the closest thing he had ever had to a father figure.

He struggled to keep in his sobs as the phone rang and he started slightly when France’s groggy irritated voice broke through the phone.

“Mon Cher, it is 6:00 in the morning, why in the hell are you calling me! The meeting doesn’t start until 8:00 and papa needs his beauty sleep. After all one doesn’t reach this level of gorgeousness by waking up at - ”

The Frenchman’s voice was cut off by an equally irritated British man shouting across the room for the ‘frog to shut the bloody hell up and go back to sleep before he rips his hair out of his head.”

Canada heard an indignant squawk leave the Frenchman’s lips and lost it, “Will the two of you just shut up eh? You are complaining about being woke up at 6:00 and bitching and fighting like two little girls and you don’t even bother to ask why I called! Don’t you care or even wonder why someone who would normally never do anything to inconvenience anybody would call when he knew you would be asleep! Don’t you care that I feel like my mind is shattering! Don’t you care that you offended the boy that you raised and helped develop into a wonderful strong beautiful nation! Don’t you care that I am sitting in America’s bedroom right now holding the cold hand of my dead brother! Don’t you care that you killed him, that he blew a hole in his own head because he thought everyone hated him and that the world would be better off if he was dead! DON’T YOU CARE AT ALL?!”

The Canadian dissolved into tears yet again and threw the phone across the room ignoring the resounding crack as it shattered against the wall. He stood up and turned to look as his brother before climbing into the bed beside him and burrowing his face into the strong back of the other male. He lay there for what felt like hours trying to breathe in his brother’s scent and warm him back up.

'America should never be cold, he hated the cold. I have to warm him up, he hates being cold. He will be so angry at me if he is this cold when he wakes up. He should never be cold. I don’t want him to be mad at me; I love him he’s my little brother. He hates being cold. When he wakes up we can go down to Florida just the two of us. He should never be cold. I don’t ever care if he makes fun of me for being so pale. He hates being cold. When he wakes up …… he’s never waking up! He’s dead! HE SHOULD NEVER BE COLD BUT HE IS!'

Canada sat up suddenly and reached across his brother to grab the gun he had placed on the bedside table.

'All I want is to go to the beach with my brother again, to have fun again! THE BEACH ISN’T COLD, AMERICA WON’T BE COLD ANYMORE! I WILL SEE YOU SOON BROTHER AND WE CAN GO TO THE BEACH AGAIN.'

The Canadian placed the gun to his temple just like his little brother and smiled gently while closing his eyes. His hands shook uncontrollably and the barrel slipped from his temple causing a growl to leave his lips. He wiped his hands against his jeans to dry them before raising the gun again and moving his finger over the trigger. Just as he was about to pull it the gun went flying from his grip and crashed into he wall.

Shocked he whipped around and stared at the two men standing in America’s room. A horrified France stood at the bed side his hand still raised from slapping the gun out of the Canadian’s hands, while England stood immobile in the doorway.  
A shuttering breath left Canada’s lips before he dissolved into tears yet again, “I just wanted to be with my brother, h-he’s not suppose to be this cold, he hated the cold.”

The words seamed to break the spell and France reached forwards collecting Canada into his arms, while England stumbled to America’s side. Tears ran down the Brit’s face as he gazed down at the young nation he called his brother.

“The last thing I ever said to him, I was scolding him. I never told how much he meant to me. France, what have we done?”

France shook his head, and reached a hand out to the sobbing Brit, “Come here Mon Ami, please there is nothing we can do so don’t - ”

“Shut up!” England shouted, recoiling away from the Frenchman, “Don’t you dare say there is nothing I could have done! I could have told him how much I bloody cared for him, or how I proud I was of him, or even that no matter what I said I would always, without a doubt, love him from the bottom of my heart. I raised him France, and yet I said all those things to him, I sat by and allowed everyone else to say all those things to him! I never noticed that he was feeling like this! I KILLED MY LITTLE BROTHER FRANCE SO DON’T YOU DARE TELL ME THERE IS NOTHING I COULD HAVE DONE!”

England stormed out of the room and slammed the front door closed behind him, leaving France behind with the now silent Canada.

“P-Papa we have to plan a funeral don’t we?”

“Oui, Canada. We will give him the farewell a hero truly deserves.” France responded, stroking the Canadian’s hair back away from his face.

“Just us Papa, just family. No one else is allowed to come. Just family” Canada whispered, as his eyes slipped shut, worn out by all the crying.

France drew in a shuttering breath and glanced at the American laying on the bed, “Oh Amerique, I am so sorry. How could we have done this to you? How did I never see it, how pale you had become, how withdrawn you were. It seems so obvious now, that the smiles were fake, and the laughs were forced. I don’t even have the right to ask why you never told anyone, after all why would you tell your tormenters that they were effecting you, that would only make everything worse. I only wish you had had someone to talk to so that I never would have come to this. I will miss you so much Amerique, my little brother, my second son. Rest easy and may the angles always watch over you.”

France squeezed his eyes shut to hold back the tears and pulled himself to his feet lifting Canada easily off the bed. He would call America’s president and tell him what had happened, but for now he had to get Canada and England someplace where they could grieve and then he had to go to the meeting and tell everyone what they had done to one of the brightest happiest countries in the world.  
_____________________________________________  
France sat quietly in his seat, glancing at the three empty chairs that his little patchwork family normally sat in. He observed the happy cheerful countries that surrounded him bitterly.

How can they act so happy, can’t they tell that something is wrong. America would be here by now, no matter how much we were on him about being late and England would never miss a meeting. Neither would Canada but most people don’t see him so I guess that doesn’t really matter. I can’t wait to see the looks on their faces when they find out what they have done.

France was snapped out of his thoughts as Germany called for the meeting to start. France waited as he announced everything that they would be doing that day, though he had no plans to stick around to hear anyone say anything. He would drop his bombshell and walk out; he needed to be with him family to grieve. Before the first speaker could walk up to the podium to speak, he raised his hand and waved it slightly to catch the German’s attention.

The German raised an eyebrow before calling on France, “Yes I have a very important announcement to make, and it cannot wait.”

The German eyed him warily for a moment before sighing and nodding his head towards the front of the room.

France stood up and walked to the podium, pulling out a single piece of notebook paper and turning to face a room full of curious faces. He glared at them before smoothing the paper out on the worn wooden surface and beginning to read. He watched as their faces grew confused and worried and many countries started shuffling around in their seats. He finished the letter and tucked it back into the pocket of his suit.

“That letter was left by America only moment before he shot himself in the head, ending his own life. I really hope you all are happy now and I hope you all die a little inside everyday as you live with what you have done.”

Having said everything he came to say France turned around and walked towards the doors pushing them open and then pausing. “America was to kind too say it but I am not, I hope you all burn for what you have done, myself included. Oh and you are not welcome at the funeral so don’t you dare show your faces.”

He allowed the doors to slam closed behind him muffling the sounds of chaos breaking out among the shocked countries. He sighed sadly and walked towards his hotel room to finally be with his family again and to plan their final farewell to the little brother they all loved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter will be his letter, hope you enjoyed!


	3. America's Letter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> America's suicide letter

I am sick and tired of all of your shit, all of your teasing. I know that I am not the most perfect person in the world and that I have made many mistakes but hell, every one of you have as well. I am one of the youngest countries in the world so how could you all be so perfect and I so stupid and horrible. 

I hate to ruin your mental image of me but I have held my tongue long enough and I will not take it with me to my grave, which if all goes to plan is where I will be shortly. I hate fast food, and the nasty taste that it leaves in my mouth, I would much rather eat a nice home cooked meal, but sometimes I'm just in a hurry and will not punish myself but not eating. I only shove tons of hamburgers in my mouth as so not to ruin your perception, I've never wanted to let anyone down. 

That's why I tried so hard to be the hero of the world, not for some ego swelling, self serving reason as many of you seem to believe, but because I want everyone to be happy! All the wars and all the money that I have lended to countries in need, you don't think that it causes me pain or limits the things I myself and my citizens could do. If I kept all the money I have given away I could have ruled the world! But I didn't want to do that, I just wanted to be happy.

Don't any of you understand, can't you feel the pain of your people both past and current generations, and agonize that you can't do anything to stop it or to change the past. Can't you feel the pain as your people turn against you and curse you, burning the flag that you worked so hard to earn? Can't you feel that you are no longer wanted by the world and that everyone would be better off if you were dead. No I guess that's just me, after all you have each other and people who still love and care for you. If you were to fall or your people to die, the world would mourn and praise your name. I on the other hand will be cursed for being a coward and the world will celebrate my fall. After all who wouldn't celebrate the disappearance of a lazy, fat, stupid, arrogant, life ruining, asshole, American? No one, that's who.

So I will grant everyone their wish and I will leave this world. I can only wish you good luck and hope that this miserable fate will never befall any of you. I would never wish this pain on even my worst enemies, not even those I once considered my best friends, those whose betrayal stung the most.

If I could only have one selfish wish, it would be for someone to look after my people, to make sure that they don't suffer and fall in the wake of my death. Canada, my dear brother, if you would do me this one last favor I would be eternally grateful, that is if you care about the wishes of the ass of the world. Even if they have forsaken me and curse my name and the very fundaments that I stand for I will always love them. My love for all of you is what is making me do this, that and my pain.

To Anybody Who Actually Cares,

Thank you for caring and thank you for trying but I can only hope that you are much too late. For as much as I love every single one of you I hate you as well. I wish you to suffer the knowledge that you have caused my death so that you might never forget what your careless thoughts, words, and actions can do to another person.

And now at last I will be gone.

And there is nothing you can ever do to or for me again.

Signed,

Alfred F. Jones

The Federal Republic of the United States of America

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this is it, I really hope you all enjoyed the story!

**Author's Note:**

> This story is pretty near and dear to my heart, I wrote this during a pretty bad depressive episode and many of these felling are mine in some way or another. Thanks to the encouragement from friends and the support of my group in creative writing I was able to bring it out of the recesses of my computer and give it the closure it deserved. I really hope you enjoyed reading it and I hope that maybe it even made you feel something.


End file.
